Erin Wakes Thieves, Procrastinators

JOHN GROGAN

August 2, 1995|JOHN GROGAN Commentary

For a while there on Tuesday, it looked as if Hurricane Erin was going to strike a direct blow to southern Palm Beach County. Sitting at my desk, the rain lashing the windows at a slant more horizontal than vertical, the uncertainty of the storm's path left me fretting.

I was kicking myself for not getting to Item No. 5 on my "must do" list: Install storm shutters.

I wrote the list after moving into our new house in April. Three bedroom windows were equipped with Bahama shutters, but the picture windows, the sliding glass doors and all else was unprotected. Yep, sooner than later I was going to have to get to that.

So I put it on the list, right after reseating the toilet, fixing the pool pump, venting the dryer outside and painting the trim.

Hindsight should be my middle name. By midday Tuesday, with Erin appearing to draw closer, I could see clearly what should have been at the top of my list.

With the eye of the storm 24 hours away, I reassured my wife, "It's just a Category 1. We're talking Hurricane Wimp."

But later in the day, as litter whirled down the street and the puddles danced like drunkards, my confidence waned.

The procrastinator finally acts

I did what I could to prepare, given the fact that I waited too long to buy plywood or those nifty metal panels.

I brought in the potted plants, the grill, the yard furniture and anything else that could become a projectile. I lowered my three precious shutters and thought how having half a shuttered house is a little like wearing half a seat belt.

We filled our water jugs, waited in line to gas up the cars, put new batteries in the flashlights. Except for the minor point that our house was an exposed hurricane target with a bull's eye on the roof, we were all set.

My late grandmother would have said I was closing the barn door after the horses were out, but tracking the storm's coordinates on television, I promised, as soon as Erin blew through, I was going to get those shutters up. Better late than never.

One of the worst parts of a hurricane is all the waiting for it to arrive. So after doing what I could to secure the house, I decided to drive around, knowing I would feel better if I could find others caught unprepared.

But, except for the occasional storm-preparedness laggard, most people were taking it seriously this time. By 1 p.m., the barrier islands were all but deserted. The couple ignoring the mandatory evacuation, reading on their oceanfront condo balcony in Delray Beach, were the exception, not the rule.

Chalk it up to the Andrew wake-up call.

Laying in stolen supplies

Even the crooks were on their toes.

My friend Marego found that out. On Tuesday, she waited in line at the Albertson's in Delray Beach to buy emergency supplies.

"After I went through the checkout, I realized I'd forgotten batteries," she said. "So I left my cart and went back. It never occurred to me someone would steal my groceries."

Marego was gone for less than three minutes but that was time enough for some enterprising thief to make off with everything she had bought. I guess he heard you can never have too many supplies laid in when a hurricane strikes. He just didn't hear that you're supposed to pay for them.

The store was packed with last-minute shoppers. Everyone was impatient to get home. But as Marego's story began to get out, people took time to approach and ask whether they could help. A clerk at the deli counter insisted she take a free roasted chicken. A group of older women waiting in line insisted she go ahead of them.

Several gathered around to sympathize.

"He'll get what's coming to him," one said. "The hurricane is going to hit his house."

That sounded like a fair payback to me, just so it's nowhere near mine.